In good time
by totallypants
Summary: The two unlikely candidates become better friends than anybody ever expected... HGCW


She lay on the camp bed in Ginny's room and smiled. She was back at the Burrow – her home. Hermione Granger was nineteen, the war was over and the emotional scars were fading, although sure never to heal completely. The days of living in fear and shadow were over, and once again happiness flushed the hearts of those who had fought for that very thing.

Her redheaded best friend was fast asleep, a relief to Hermione who revelled in the quiet time to think. Hermione loved everything about this place. A cosy fire was always roaring in the lounge, a good meal was always on the table and mostly, she loved the way that she was always welcome.

Startled by a rustling sound being emitted from the kitchen, Hermione slunk out of her bed and crept down the creaky stairs, rubbing her eyes as she went. The light was already on in the kitchen and a mop of auburn hair was buried in the refridgerator. She cleared her throat loudly, causing the figure's head to remove itself from the fridge and instead fixate upon her face.

"Hey Hermione." A grin engulfed Charlie's face as he sat at the old table centered in the room. It struck her that in all the years she had been staying with the Weasleys, she had never really got to know Charlie all that well. She subtley surveyed the young man. He was slightly smaller than his brothers, although still much taller than her. His kind face was tanned from his years in Romania and his nose was lightly dusted with freckles.

She mirrored his grin and pulled up a chair opposite him. "You're back then?", she quizzed.

"So it would seem. Tea?"

"Ooh yes please. What time is it?"

Charlie looked up from the kettle and smiled. "Two." He handed her a steaming mug of tea and straddled the chair next to her's, his eyes fixed on her's. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Not really in the mood…"

"Why are you here Hermione- at the Burrow?" he asked suddenly, his inquisitive eyes bored into hers. The answer to her was simple.

"It's my only real home" she returned his gaze. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondered."

Twenty minutes later, they found themselves asking each other more questions and drinking more tea.

"What's your favourite colour?" Hermione asked.

"Erm… red" charlie hesitated. "Favourite smell?"

"Baking bread" she grinned, then her smile faded. "Charlie, why did you come back from Romania?"

His face fell. "Well, the truth is, I had my heart broken. There was this woman, Aira. She worked on the reserve with me. It was love. We were together for three years and I caught her in bed with my best friend. That was a month ago. I was devastated. I didn't eat, didn't sleep, didn't go out. Everytime I saw her, it would make me even more depressed. I had to come home. So I did."

Hermione said nothing. She stood and walked around to the back of his chair and placed a hand softly on his shoulder. He rose up from his chair and turned towards her. She buried him in a sympathetic hug, where they stood for a few moments before Hermione spoke as she broke away.

"Charlie, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have been so nosey, I kn-"

"Hermione, are you kidding? This is the first time I've talked to anybody about this. I needed to get it out. Thank you."

Still both standing, Hermione and Charlie smiled at each other, truly understanding each other for the first time. They uttered their 'goodnights' and each went to their beds.

A month later, Charlie and Hermione were best friends. Most people thought that their friendship was odd or unnatural. Ironic indeed that to them, it was the most natural thing in the world.

Since the end of the war, Hermione and Ron had been together. Both knew that they were wrong for each other, but their relationship was expected by others and for now, it was easiest.

"Hermione, why are you with him?" Charlie asked suddenly one evening as the two sat in the garden under the old elm tree.

"What's that supposed to mean? I love him" she argued.

"No you don't."

"Charlie, frankly, it's none of your business. I fail to see why I should justify our relationship to you" her temper was beginning to flare.

"No Hermione, it's just that you can't even justify it to yourself."

"I love him!" she gasped.

"He's wrong for you", he mumbled, staring at his feet.

"Charlie, just because you can't make your relationships work, and that girl decided she would rather sleep with your best friend, doesn't mean you can go about trying to wreck other people's private lives!"

Charlie fell silent – scalded by her words. He couldn't look at her.

Hermione fell silent. She had gone too far and she knew it. Any words now were pointless. She stood up and walked into the house without looking back.

He felt empty. The smell of her perfume still lingered faintly in the damp air. All that time, he thought she had understood. The more he had opened up to her, the more he had given her the ability to hurt him. She had grown to mean so much to him but obviously the same could not be said for her.

It was a week later and Charlie and Hermione had been avoiding each other until that night when Charlie was lying on his bed, absentmindedly tapping his beadstead. There was a feather-light tap at the door, so quiet that he only just heard it. He stood up and paced to the other side of his small room and opened his door.

There she stood. She wore a scruffy tracksuit and her usually straightened hair fell bushy around her shoulders. There were grey circles residing beneath her eyes and she just stood, not making eye contact.

"Charlie, I know that what I said was unforgivable. I know that I hurt you. I know you were right about Ron – I ended it. This last week, I've missed you. I feel so guilty. I promise I didn't mean what I said, I felt challenged and in return, I was just spiteful. I haven't slept much this last week. I'm so sorry."

He had stood watching her and listening to her words, but as she was seemingly finished, he turned away from her, leaving her in the doorway and sat on the floor of his room, leaving her speech hanging in the air. A moment later, she was sitting beside him with her hand on his knee.

"The thing is, Char… the thing is, I know we haven't known each other that long, but- but you mean more to me than any other friend I have. I messed up Charlie. I messed up- and I'm sorry. I understand if you feel hurt. All I can do is ask you to forgive me" Hermione looked at him properly for the first time since she had knocked on his door.

His eyes met hers and they locked. "I lied."

"What?" Hermione looked puzzled.

"You asked me on that night in July what my favorite colour was. I said red. Hermione, my favourite colour is the colour of your eyes- that deep chocolatey colour which can never be matched."

She sat, dumbfounded. Moments later, she regained her composure and touched his cheek with her hand. He turned to face her. She could not be certain who leaned in first, but seconds later, their lips had met. At that moment, Bill happened to have walked past and seen them out of the corner of his eye.

He smiled to himself as he walked down the hall. "About time" he muttered, "About time."


End file.
